


Silicon Hearts

by Antonier



Category: League of Legends
Genre: F/M, Merry Snowdown!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 01:34:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9049900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antonier/pseuds/Antonier
Summary: On trees, weapons, and the composition of a soul.





	

"Why is there a tree in our living room?"

Orianna's voice is musical and balanced, but still clearly belonging to a machine. There is an undercurrent to it, like two voices speaking at once. She turns, a perfect pivot, and faces her roommate. Every movement spins and ripples through her clockwork, the precision incredible to behold. The cogs and gears seem to dance with her, cause and effect like ripples in a pond. She is beautiful, inhumanely so, a mathematical perfection no living creature could hope to obtain.

The being besides her is not nearly as elegant. Crude and square, the lumbering yellow giant of a robot hums and shoots off a puff of steam before replying.

"You humans decorate trees for Snowdown, yes? I thought it might... Liven up the place."

His voice is just as opposite to his companions as his appearance. It's rough and static, every word separate and cracked.

"I am not a human."

The words are simple, but there is a world of meaning behind them. Beautiful though she may be, it is not a heart that powers her body but a gold key, turning the minutes of life away until it is wound again.

Blitzcrank shakes his colossal head.

"Why not?"

Perhaps the question would be clearer if it had a tone or expression to match. The only thing he can convey is confusion.

She shakes her head too, and her design is so thorough that the demure gesture almost looks sad.

"Humans eat. Humans sleep. Humans feel. I remember humanity. This isn't it."

"What do you remember?"

If he had a throat made of flesh, the words would have carried the longing he felt.

"I remember warmth. Not just temperature, but the weight of sunlight. I remember cold. Like losing bits of yourself, so you try and become smaller to hold yourself together."

Her audience is stock still.

"I remember touch. It was more than just something being there. Sometimes it felt like it wasn't. I remember taste. Little spots of morning dew, mixed with tears and rain. Dye in a hot glass, coming together but still different. I remember smells. Like memories in bubbles."

Perhaps she would cry at what she had lost, but she couldn't.

"I remember flesh. I was not so durable; sometimes I would bleed. I remember pain. And fear. And loneliness. I am not like that anymore. I was a dancer. Now I am a weapon."

The orb floating at her side moves faster than any eye, human or robot, could process. It stops just shy from slicing off her partner's head.

For a while, there is silence. The a whir-click-hiss of machinery is the only sound. It spins in the air above him, deadly with only a thought.

"You have a soul. A human one. Your body is a weapon, yes, but you are... More."

He reaches out, and snatches it from the air. It seems as delicate as glass in his hands, but it is he who is in danger.

"You can dance, you can laugh, you can love. That is more than my father."

There is surprise at his use of the term. It is true, Viktor's role in bring Blitzcrank to being is closest to that of a father, but the man is evil. He no longer cares for what was once his prized creation, caring only for his augmentation.

"Your father isn't human either."

"Yet he still has flesh, he still has blood, he still can touch and taste and smell. He is still more man then machine. Why is he inhuman?"

"He may have a body, but he cannot feel. Humans, they have emotions. Chemical reactions in the brain. I don't have a brain, so I don't have emotions."

"You miss your humanity, do you not?"

"I was fragile before. I would break so easily. Now I am dangerous. What is there to miss?"

"Something being there and not. Dew and dye in warm water. Memories in bubbles. What about your soul? What is the point of it?"

"My soul is what makes me Orianna Reveck."

"Orianna Reveck was a human. Yet you are a robot."

"Yes. I am not a human. But I still am Orianna Reveck."

"Are you a robot?"

"My body is made of metal. That makes me a robot."

"Am I a robot?"

"Yes."

"But you have a soul. I do not. What does that make us?"

"You have a soul. The summoners couldn't do anything if you did not."

"I was never human. How do I have a soul?"

"I do not know. There is no soul-part to your mechanisms?"

"No."

"Then a soul is not a physical thing? That is what humans say."

"Do the security bots have souls?"

"No."

"Are they robots?"

"Of course."

"Do human have souls?"

"Yes. But we are not human."

"Yordles have a soul. Spirits have a soul. Even void creatures have a soul. Robots do not. Yet we have souls. So we are not robots."

"Humans are soft, we are sharp. If a human breaks, it is the end for them. We can be out back together. We are not human."

"You speak of giving up your body so lightly."

"What is the use for a broken part? If it is useless, it must be replaced."

"Nothing about you is useless."

In an instant, she realized her mistake. Her model had been designed to carry out her dream, and it had. Her father is a genius, and his work reflected it. It is true, no part of her is useless, everything is needed to run the body that is her own smoothly and efficiently.

He however, is old. As far as technology goes, ancient. Every ounce of Viktor's brilliance had gone into making his mind, not his body. This world's first sentient man-made life-form. His body had been an afterthought, his AI stuck into the most advanced piece of machinery of its time, instead of a specially designed one.

Yes, he could be upgraded into a newer model. His program could be transferred into a body that reflected it. But this is his body, and of he were to forfeit it willingly, he would be no better than his father.

"Fine. We are not human. But we are not machines either. Whatever we are, we can decorate this tree."

The clockwork marionette looks at the tree in question.

"We will need ornaments."

"We can make them."

And so, come Snowdown Eve, the two friends sit in the shadow of the pine. Wire wraps around it instead of tinsel, hextech lights instead of candles, gears instead of baubles. And on the top, where the star should be, The Ball floats, just for a moment no longer the deadly weapon it was designed to be.

They turn off the lights, and bask in the glow.

"It is beautiful."

"Yes, indeed."

Neither of them are looking at the tree.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! The inspiration for this hit me when I was writing about Blitzcrank in my other fic.  
> If you want, you can review! Tell me what you think, be it positive or negative. Either way, I appreciate it.  
> Have a Merry Christmas and a Happy Chanukah!


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